


Real Life Rapunzel

by CrazyJanaCat



Series: Harrymort One-shots [13]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Voldemort Wins, Boredom, M/M, Past Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Past Drug Use, Past Rape/Non-con, Rapunzel Elements, Stockholm Syndrome
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-06
Updated: 2016-09-06
Packaged: 2018-08-13 11:09:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,888
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7974661
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CrazyJanaCat/pseuds/CrazyJanaCat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Once, Harry had dreamed of making the Gryffindor Tower his permanent home. He had never thought that once it was, he wouldn’t leave ever again with only Lord Voldemort as his companion. His very own Mother Gothel.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Real Life Rapunzel

There wasn’t much to do for him most days. The rooms, though spacious, were usually very empty and generic. Of course, if he had a request that was within reason for objects to be brought in, his _warden_ was happy to oblige. He was easier to handle if he was kept happy, he supposed.

There was, believe it or not, a special flying room, where the girls dorms used to be. All the walls had been taken down, making the entire space safe for flying with a broom. He even had his Snitch, the one he had caught in his very first game, which he chased to stave of boredom.

Sadly, even flying got tenuous after too long, so he spend most his time in the library, reading ‘safe’ books that his captor had hand-picked for him. There were ones like _‘Quidditch Through the Ages’_ , _‘Hogwarts: A History’, ‘Magical Beasts and Were to Find Them’, ‘The Adventures of Sherlock Holmes’, ‘Tales of Beetle the Bard’_ and his personal favourite, _‘The Collected Works of the Brothers Grimm’_. Especially the story about Rapunzel, but he supposed that was mostly because he could relate.

After all, he too was locked away in a tower, wasn’t he?

Gryffindor Tower had been his home since his first year at Hogwarts, and now, it had been his prison for many decades already. For as far as he was aware, the Fat Lady had been taken away and replaced by a heavy, enchanted door that would only open to Voldemort himself. Other than that, Harry had been told that the whole Tower was warded to keep him especially in and no one would come look for him, as Voldemort had claimed to the world that Harry Potter had died at his wand that night in the Forbidden Forest. It pained Harry to think his friends – if they still lived – had given up hope. Then again, hadn’t he given up hope too?

Isolation was a cruel torture. After having had no one near him for _months_ , he had been so eager to obey Voldemort if it meant not having to be alone like that again. He had opened himself up in the most intimate ways for the man, let him into his body and he had been _grateful_. He’d gotten past that now, though he still wasn’t opposed to sex with the man. It kept the boredom away after all.

He never knew when Voldemort would show up either. Sometimes, it took him weeks to come by while at other times, he even stayed the night, spending several days with Harry. They mostly talked during those times. About the past, about things Harry had read in his books, or his dreams. Sometimes, Voldemort told him about his travels abroad and even brought Harry souvenirs. Useless trinkets that would be of no help to Harry if he ever wanted to escape. He hadn’t bothered in many years.

Sometimes though, they would spend the whole day in bed, fucking like teenagers. Harry craved the excitement, the thrill of orgasm, the feeling of being dominated. It made him forget everything else. During those times, the nightmares seemed so far away. At least like that, he could forget about everyone he had disappointed so many years ago.

He’d lost track of time a long time ago. It could be anywhere between several decades and two hundred years if you asked him. He hadn’t aged since he was 17 after all. Not after Voldemort realized he was a Horcrux and wanted him safe and healthy for all of eternity.

Harry stopped thinking as he heard the heavy door swing open and looked up from his book. The tales of Grimm again. He smiled as he saw Voldemort stride in, looking the very handsome 35 year-old Tom Riddle like he had ever since maybe five years after Harry’s initial capture, when he had still been stubborn and tried to escape half of the time.

“Done kicking puppies for today, Mother Gothel?” he asked casually, smirking when he saw Voldemort’s eye twitch.

“Are you reading _that story_ again?” the leader of Wizarding Europe asked annoyed.

Harry just grinned wider and closed his book with a loud snap before jumping up from his seat.

“Pull the stick out of your arse, Tom!” he laughed.  
“What? Did a mudblood escape your Crucio today?”

He had meant it as teasing, but stilled when he noticed Voldemort’s eyes darken in displeasure.

“One would think that a 95 year-old witch like Granger would take it easier,” he hissed bitterly.  
“Instead, she still leads rebellion raids at least once a month! And my pathetic excuse of an Auror Division is incapable of capturing her!”

A wave of affection rushed over Harry and he smiled. Hermione was still out there, still fighting against Voldemort and his regime, no matter how hopeless it all seemed. His smile turned bitter. She was a lot more headstrong than he was, it seemed. She still hoped while he had given up a long time ago. He wondered if she’d hate him if she ever found out…

“Did you take it easy when you were that age? Did Dumbledore?” he asked.  
“How old _was_ Dumbledore when he died anyway? More than a hundred, right?”

“115 years old,” Voldemort replied absentminded, pulling Harry closer by his hips.  
“But I prefer not to talk about him. It dampens the mood considerably.”

“You already were in a bad mood, though,” Harry pointed out teasingly.  
“But fine. If you don’t want to talk about him, we’ll talk about Hermione.”

Voldemort gave a childish groan and turned away, clearly not wanting to talk about it, but Harry wasn’t going to give in just like that.

“She used to be my friend, you know. Before,” he said stubbornly.  
“Of course I’d want to know about her now that I know she’s still out there!”

“I know nothing about your mudblood friend,” Voldemort hissed angrily.  
“That is the whole point as to why she is still alive and _terrorizing_ my officials!”

Harry scowled. If they had had this conversation about 50 years earlier, Harry would have been more upset at those words and demanded her safety, maybe even begged for it, promising he’d do anything. He knew better now though. There was nothing left to offer that Voldemort couldn’t already get from him without blackmail. All he could still do was take away the Dark Lord’s tension and hope that it would be enough to warm him towards leaving Hermione alone.

Harry wrapped his arms around Voldemort’s neck and stood on his toes so he could kiss him. As he had anticipated, Voldemort reacted immediately by grabbing Harry at the waist and opening his mouth. Harry parted his own lips to allow the taller man access to the inside.

“Let’s take this to the bedroom, alright, Tom?” Harry purred as he pulled away from the other for a second.

In reply, Voldemort simply growled and pulled Harry back in another kiss. Harry moaned around the other’s eager tongue and pressed closer. He loved the kisses the two of them shared more than the sex that usually came afterwards, even though that was pretty great too. He grinned against Voldemort’s lips at that thought. If Hermione saw him now, she’d have a spontaneous heart-attack.

But Harry didn’t think he could be faulted for this, not after 77 years of imprisonment in this Tower. Sex was a way to get through the day, had been for many decades by now. He’d tried to escape at first of course, fought and struggled, but the Tower had eventually taken its toll on Harry and after about two and a half decades, he had fully given in to the boredom and started to try to seduce Voldemort just to see if he could. It wasn’t as if they hadn’t had sex before then, but before then, Harry had never initiated anything, and Voldemort had not touched him in six years.

He’d growled a warning in Harry’s ear that he wouldn’t be a gentle lover as he stripped him of his clothes with nimble fingers. But even after his warnings and threats, Voldemort had taken his time stretching Harry and used copious amounts of lube to ease the way. It had been amazing, and Harry had been practically addicted for several years before Voldemort decided that several rounds of sex every day was too much.

Sadly, living so isolated as Harry did, it was only a matter of time before he found another addiction. It had started with him asking one of the elves to bring weed, out of curiosity and a desperation to stave off the boredom, but it eventually ended in a 5-year addiction of meth. It had taken Voldemort an additional five year to get him off it and other drugs. He had taken care of Harry, even if he had been the cause in the first place.

Over the next few decades, Harry went through several more addictions, like alcohol, smoking, chocolate and eventually yoga. The last one stayed for nearly 30 years before he grew bored of that too and gave up on trying to fight the empty loneliness in his existence whenever Voldemort wasn’t around to keep him company.

Rapunzel, Harry decided as he continued to kiss Voldemort, was very lucky to have only had to live in her tower for about 18 years before a prince came around to save her. Harry was in his own Tower for 60 years longer and still no one had come for him. Maybe it was the hair…

“Maybe I should grow out my hair,” he murmured thoughtfully as he pulled away from Voldemort’s hold.  
“Like, _really_ long! All the way out the window and down to the ground. What do you think.”

Voldemort raised a brow.

“Is this about that stupid muggle story again?” he asked annoyed.

Harry just laughed and danced away from the Dark Lord before hurrying up the stairs to his bedroom. He didn’t need to look back to know that Voldemort followed him up. He always did.

“I think Hermione would make a wonderful Prince Charming!” Harry teased as he laid down in his bed.

“Shut up!”

“Why? Jealous~”

Voldemort just growled and descended on the younger male’s body with lips, teeth and tongue. Harry closed his eyes and sighed in pleasure. Hands roamed all over his body, grasping and pulling almost desperately on his clothes. It was to be expected of course. In the past two months, Voldemort barely had any time to visit Harry, and when he did, his visits were so short they couldn’t do anything but talk a bit and perhaps get a few kisses in too.

“You shouldn’t worry, Tom,” Harry murmured, moaning softly as Voldemort found a sensitive spot on his throat and sucked harshly on it.  
“Why would I need a Prince Charming after all those years? I don’t think I’ll ever fit in again outside this Tower.”

Voldemort looked up with a confused scowl.

“You no longer wish to leave?” he asked shocked.

Harry smiled and sat up. His face was that of one at peace with their fate as he gently cradled Voldemort’s face in two soft, pale hands.

“Why should I leave?” he asked softly.  
“You are my home, Tom.”

 


End file.
